


All a Bunch of Freaks and Misfits

by Gem_Gem



Category: Misfits (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Female Sherlock Holmes, Healer John, Multi, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The city breathing<br/>The people churning<br/>The conversating<br/>The price is what?"<br/>~ Echoes by The Rapture</p><p> </p><p>John wasn't the only one caught outside during a supernatural thunder storm which had given him a very special ability. </p><p>“Thunder, lightning, massive chunks of ice?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover Title

**Author's Note:**

> I'm...testing this out.
> 
> I thought of it randomly, as I normally do with my strange and sometimes fun ideas for stories, and it made me cackle. Loud and shrill and crazy-like.  
> I only have this written so far, and I'm not sure if I will carry it on...it all depends on you, my lovelies. If you like the way this is going so far, and if you want more, let me know.
> 
> I really like the idea but...yes, we shall see.
> 
> I thought and wrote this up a while ago. Not sure how long ago. Not long. But long enough. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'd also like to say that I want feedback and opinions on the powers that I chose. John's power is a little cliché but...it fits him...right?
> 
>  
> 
> And Misfits is a great show--or it was, until Nathan left. He was my favourite.


	2. Dude looks like a lady

The first thing he noticed was that she was tall, with long, shapely legs and lean, elegant curves. It wasn’t often that there was an attractive female in the flat and it threw John for a loop for a few moments. The woman was standing in the sitting room staring intently at the skull on the mantelpiece, one slender-fingered hand pressed to her lush mouth; she looked lost in thought and seemed to be frowning with a slight tilt of her head. John eyed her body with interest, confused at her state of dress when he noticed that the suit she wore looked to be for men rather than costumed for the female form, as it didn’t compliment her hips or bust; in fact her shirt seemed to be straining to contain her quite lovely bosom.

“Um. Hello,” John started softly, trying not to startle her as he hung up his coat and stepped towards her, holding out a friendly hand. “I’m John, John Watson—are you here as a client? Do you want Sherlock’s help with something?”

The woman waved him away irritably and then sighed, turning to pace before the fireplace with bare feet. John blinked in confusion and glanced around, seeing no sort of female footwear and looking back at her as she clutched her thick, dark, curly, hair in a motion that screamed familiarity. She huffed and then suddenly stiffened and looked sharply at John with wide variegated eyes.

“Oh! John,” She said as if she had just noticed his presence at that very moment and straightened, glancing down at her body slowly. “Ah. Right. Yes. I…I can explain.”

“Explain?” John repeated with a charming smile as he watched her closely. “Why don’t you sit down? Do you want a cuppa or anything?”

She frowned at him and then pressed her plump lips together, “Yes...”

John nodded, “Milk and sugar?”

“Black. Three sugars,” she replied, her voice a smooth, alluring purr that shuddered down John’s spine and made his smile widen as he wandered into the kitchen. She sat elegantly into Sherlock’s seat and crossed her legs leisurely, watching John with what John thought was amusement.

“So, do you want to tell me your problem? I don’t know where my flatmate is but, I’m just as good a listener,” John told her politely as he switched the kettle on and reached for some mugs from the cupboards.

“You think I’m attractive,” She said instead of answering his question, her eyes narrowed on him with a spike of intensity that made something in John twist in memory. “What is it about me that you find attractive?”

John laughed nervously and cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely, “I…well, I mean, yes, you are very…nice—you’re not Sherlock’s sister or cousin are you?”

“Interesting.” Her eyes gleamed and she leaned forwards, “What if I was?”

“Well, are you?”

She got to her feet and then hesitated before sweeping an arm out dismissively and turning to look out the window, her fingers against her mouth again. John admired her, following the slope of her neck, and licked his lips nervously, looking back at the kettle.

“What’s your name?” John asked a few seconds later when the kettle clicked and he made their tea, eyes on her when she turned to him vaguely.

“Hm?” 

“Your name?” John chuckled, smiling brightly at her when she turned back to face him. She stared at his face, into his eyes, and then dropped her arms to her sides when he wandered over to hand her a mug.

She took it from him gradually and then pursed her lips with a thoughtful sigh, “Do you recall the storm?”

“The storm?” John asked with a frown as he motioned for her to sit, which she ignored.

“The thunder storm. Or the electrical storm, as many are calling it,” She clarified, watching John fixedly. “Thunder, lightning, massive chunks of ice? Anyone hit suddenly had ridiculously, impossible but quite fascinating “gifts”? You got hit too, didn’t you, John?”

John stiffened despite himself and her next smile was so familiar that John opened his mouth in shock, “There you go. Took you long enough,” she chuckled and as she lifted the mug to her mouth to take a delicate sip her entire form and shape shifted and changed, sinking in some places to broaden in others, and Sherlock blinked calmly back at John with a quirking smirk, “So, you think I’m really…nice, do you?”

Spilling hot tea on his foot, John cursed and jerked, stumbling back with a scowl, “What the—you’re a woman?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and wriggled his bare feet, “No.”

“But I just saw you…”

“That’s my “gift”,” Sherlock explained in frustration, his tea perfectly balanced even as he gestured animatedly and paced the sitting room. “That’s what I can do since the storm. I can turn into a woman. I wasn’t a woman to start off with. I was born very much a man, John.”

John blinked, shifted, put down his dripping mug and took a breath, “You can turn into a woman? You can…turn into a woman. A woman. Woman. You. A really bloody good-looking woman at that—figures…”

Sherlock preened and then frowned, “Are you saying I’m not a good-looking man?”

“What? I...I don’t know—No. No. I suppose…yeah, you are attractive. For a man. You have this odd…face. Interesting face. Yeah, definitely interesting.” John rambled, huffing at how pathetic that entire reply was and shaking his head. “This is…just strange. I’m not sure I know how to process this.”

“Odd?” Sherlock repeated with a deep crease between his brows, turning to look at his reflection and turning his face aside. “How am I “odd”?”

John lifted his gaze, still stunned at the sudden news, “I thought I was the only one. I mean…I didn’t believe it at first, you understand, but after a while…well…”

“I have a very reasonable face,” Sherlock muttered. “Perhaps eccentric would be a better word? Is it my cheekbones? It’s my cheekbones, isn’t it?”

“It’s, um, healing, by the way,” John butted in over Sherlock’s continuous muttering. “My…my power. I…heal people. Bit annoying really, if I’m honest. I hardly use it. It’s, uh, it’s a bit…humiliating. The way I have to do it, it’s…well, awkward.”

Sherlock looked over at him from the mirror and then turned to face him properly, “Healing?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Sherlock hummed, strolling over in the next moment with a look of interest, the blue-green of his eyes making John recoil in embarrassment as he recalled the same eyes peering at him from the face of a woman mere moments ago. “I suppose it fits—can you heal anything?”

John shrugged, weirdly self-conscious, “I…I don’t know.”

“Show me.”

“Show you? How—?” John started to ask before he grabbed at Sherlock’s arm with a stern and strict growl when Sherlock strode into the kitchen and pulled out a knife, eyeing its sharp edge with intent. “No! Sherlock, don’t you dare!”

“Oh, relax,” Sherlock scoffed, slicing the blade along his palm unflinchingly with a long inhale, and grinned. “There. Show me.”

John glared at him deeply and let Sherlock bleed for a minute, half watching the way his blood welled and leaked between his outstretched fingers, “I’m not healing that. You’re an idiot.”

“I showed you mine…” Sherlock wiggled his hand, spraying blood on the kitchen table and a little on John’s cheek. “Hurry up, before I get some on the carpet. Again.”

“Why were you a woman in plain sight anyway?” John mumbled and grabbed Sherlock’s wrist, pulling his injured hand, palm up, to his face. He glanced down at the cut, cringed, and turned Sherlock’s hand aside. After a glower at a confused and assessing Sherlock, John kissed a patch of skin as close to the wound as he could get without being smeared with blood and pulled back, watching the skin stitch itself back together again.

Sherlock took his hand back, wiped the blood away and beamed suddenly and radiating, snorting in laughter, “You have to kiss the affected area to heal it? That’s how your power works? How did you find that out? What exactly have you been kissing, John Watson?”

“Shut it,” John huffed, giving in to a smile and a quick giggle before he schooled his features and shook his head with folded arms. “How did you find out yours then?”

“I woke up with breasts,” Sherlock replied shortly as he inspected his palm more closely, drawing his long fingers over the smooth skin, seemingly captivated. 

John tried his best not to picture Sherlock waking up to find a weight on his chest and air between his legs, and flushed, hiding a smirk behind his hand, “Ah. Bet that was quite the surprise...”

Sherlock nodded with a low, reverberating hum, “I may have screamed.”

“Screamed?”

“Just a bit.”

John held back his laughter until Sherlock peeked over at him with his mouth bent on a grin, and John and Sherlock dissolved into sniggers simultaneously, laughing together until Sherlock collapsed on his chair with a long, drawn out sigh and a wide, genuine smile that John returned instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! And the relationships in this might be weird--and I'm not sure where I want to go with it, if it'll be slash or what, but I will say this...John has the best of both worlds now, don't you think? Who needs girlfriends when you have a male friend whom can slip you some vagina whenever you want it. Eh? Eh? Flash a little bit of side-boob. Heh...

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me!


End file.
